


JonPeter Week 2021

by Mattition



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Other, Public Masturbation, Sea Monsters, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattition/pseuds/Mattition
Summary: My fills for JonPeter week!don't worry, this'll get a pretentious poetry title and summary when the week's out :}
Relationships: Peter Lukas/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: JonPeter Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> !! I'm very excited abt this lol
> 
> Day One: ~~Boat Sex~~ / **Letter Writing/Journaling**
> 
> this'll get smutty at some point and I'm gonna try to keep all the prompts in this universe so bear with me :)

Jon’s not sure if the monster in the bay can read, but he leaves it little notes. It’s afraid to get too close to him, but he leaves it fish and his little notes, and on the few occasions he’s not had to run to school, he stays to watch it climb up in the rocky jetty and it eats the fish and looks at the note. It knows he hides and watches it because sometimes it will look at his hiding spot wearily. It used to get closer to him when he was really little, but he understands that he looks different now. He hopes it knows he still loves it. 

Though, maybe that is the issue. It is afraid of being loved. It wants him to leave it alone. He had gathered that much when it left him for what seemed like good. It must go someplace cooler in summer, because it was never around when he’d been climbing around in the tidepools and getting salt in his hair. Not that he stays away from the shore in the cooler months; the jetties are his favorite place, and the little cave his monster had carved them out has stayed his secret hiding spot; it’s where he goes to read when he’s especially in need of a place to be alone. He had been almost sure that it wasn’t real, just an imaginary friend of a child with an overreactive imagination. But he still has the long scar across his lower belly from its beak. It was real. It was all real. Which is why he’s here. He’d seen it, and he wants it to know that he remembers it; he wants it to know that he’s here, waiting for it. He’ll wait as long as it needs.

His notes vary in length, and sometimes, when he has no words, he’ll just draw a little smiley face. The monster doesn’t mind the short notes, he knows. It had never minded his nonverbal days, back when it was his only friend, back when he was little. But it doesn’t mind his longer notes, either. Sometimes he writes pages and pages to his monster, and it looks at them, it _seems_ like it reads them. He hopes it cares for him too. It certainly used to treat him like it did, when it would cuddle him close in its heavy, warm tentacles. It used to leave big, round sucker marks all over him that he had to cover with long skirts and cardigans. He’s not sure what his grandmother thought about that, but she’d never said anything about it. It wasn’t its fault it left marks anyway; his monster was never mean. It was always kind, if not gentle. But it still left the marks. He misses them.

It writes him a letter back one day. He comes back to the jetties after school, eager to see if the monster had taken his latest gift. He’d left a little trinket, as well as a little notebook and pen. He’d realized that his monster couldn’t respond, if it _could_ write. It’s strange that he’d never asked. 

But it writes him back. It writes in big, clumsy letters, but he rather thinks that’s to be expected of a creature with no hands. The things it can do with its tentacles are impressive, from Jon’s experience. He’s not sure why he’s surprised that the letter is in English, but it is, though the words are a bit antiquated. He’d just assumed that it was some strange creature of far-off lands, but it talks kind of like his great uncle. Jon reads and rereads the note. It’s just a short thing, but it calls him ‘Jon’ and it tells him thank you, and it tells him he’s allowed closer, and, most important of all, it tells him his monster’s name, which he’s never been able to guess. It calls itself Peter, which Jon tucks close to his heart. 

His monster is that only in body, but never in manner, and now, no longer in name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: **Open Ocean/Personal Space** / ~~Nightmares/Fantasy~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware that underage tag for real
> 
> Jon anatomy terms:  
> chest, boobs, nipples  
> pussy

It’s not that he’s a particularly scary person; he rather thinks he’s quite brave, actually. It’s that he’s _small_. Peter’s here for him, has him clutched close to the center of his body, but they’re far, far from the shore, headed to what Jon can only assume is Peter’s lair. He’s trying not to think of sharks or other creatures like Peter, or jellyfish, or anything. He’s got his face tucked into the base of its neck, but he peaks out periodically. He’s not scared, but if he was, even that fear would pale in comparison to the awe he feels looking out upon the vast, endless expanse of open water. His eyes sting a bit from the salt, but he’s been training to be on the swim team, so he runs laps in the bay as often as he can and he’s used to a bit of salt in his eyes. Even when they come up for air, Jon can just barely see the smudge of black that is the shore. It feels like he and Peter are alone in the world, just the two of them against whatever may come, and he can’t quite tell if the feeling that awakes in his chest is joy or terror.

Maybe a bit of both.

He’s always been alone. The only other being who seems to care for him at all is this mess of blubber and tentacles, this creature with sharp teeth and wide, piercing eyes. It is objectively horrifying and it is his only lifeline. He’s glad for it. He’s a big kid, he’s certainly old enough to know that none of his peers like him.

Peter finally dives, down and down, edging close to a large rock formation, until it turns, suddenly, into a hidden cave opening. Jon’s trying his best to hold his breath, and he squeezes Peter’s tentacle desperately. It makes a vaguely soothing rumble and heads upwards, towards the shimmering ceiling of the cave and Jon can’t help but make a distressed noise, afraid his monster is going to dash them against solid rock. They break the surface of the water, though, and Jon finds himself in an extraordinary space, a wide cavern that Peter’s turned into some sort of a home. It looks like a _person’s_ home, for all that it has obvious accommodations made for Peter’s inhuman form. There’s a lovely little nest in one corner that Peter carefully deposits Jon in. Jon fingers the soft pelts and blankets as he watches Peter pull itself out of the water. 

It’s hulking and grey-blue, and it lumbers a bit when it moves. Jon thinks that if he didn’t know Peter so well already, he’d be afraid of it. As things are, he sits quietly and watches as his monster shuffles around. It digs in a chest and unearths a dull silver necklace on a short chain. It shuffles towards Jon and thrusts it out, offering. Jon takes it tentatively and Peter makes a pleased little trill. It lumbers into his space and lifts him up with its tentacles. It’s very warm and Jon is only wearing a pair of shorts over his swimsuit so he’s glad to share its body heat. It nudges his hands toward his neck and he carefully clasps the necklace on, watching Peter’s face for guidance. It squeezes him briefly, coils its tentacles around him more securely. It slips a big, warm tentacle between his thighs, curls it around once, and suckers on. Jon squeaks.

He remembers this game. When he was little and Peter visited him, they would play horsey and Peter would let him ride it around. It feels a bit odd when he tries now, and he bites down on a little whimper. The tentacle is so hot and slick between his legs that he feels himself blushing. He pushes his face against Peter’s torso and it makes a low, soothing rumble. Jon’s hips seem to be moving of their own volition, and he stuffs his thumb into his mouth for comfort as he bucks mindlessly against Peter. 

Peter nudges a tentacle against his mouth and makes a disapproving clicking sound with its beak. Jon removes his thumb, and Peter takes it as invitation to stick his tentacle in. Jon hums consideringly around the intruding limb. It’s salty, and warm, and the texture is interesting to rub his tongue against, so he suckles on it. Peter thrusts it in and out, just lightly, testing, and Jon drops his jaw open wider, taking it as a given that Peter would never hurt him, even as it pulls on the straps of his bathing suit, pulling them down enough that he’s a bit tangled in it and his chest is exposed. Jon doesn’t have very many feelings about his chest. He knows that the girls at school like to compare theirs in the bathrooms, but Jon doesn’t really care about that. He also knows from the books he’s read about transgender people that you’re supposed to hate having boobs if you’re a boy, but he’s never really felt that either. As it is, his boobs are just small, unobtrusive, and he’s never really considered them as anything particularly important until Peter carefully lays suckers on their peaks and massages them. He squirms and whines at the sensation, and Peter cuddles him closer, pushes the tentacle in his mouth deeper, comforting him. Jon grabs the tentacle in his mouth with both hands, and holds it.

He likes the comfort of being cradled so gently, even as his body seems to be betraying him. He can’t seem to stop his hips from bucking and grinding down on Peter’s tentacle between his legs, and he can’t help but feel embarrassed because of how… wet it feels down there. He’s almost afraid to look, because everything between his legs feels damp and slick and so, so hot that it brings tears to his eyes. There’s a heavy pressure there, and he’s terrified he’ll accidentally pee. Peter wouldn’t like that; his gran hates it when he has a bad nightmare and pees the bed, surely Peter would hate him even more than she does if he did that.  
Still, he feels dizzy and hot and he jerks wildly when Peter sneaks the tip of one tentacle up the leg of his shorts to rub against him _there_. It feels so hot and he sobs a bit as the tentacle presses against him through his swimsuit. Peter rumbles. It provides him an even better surface to grind against and he suckles contently on Peter’s tentacle as he rocks in its lap. This isn’t how they used to play, but he thinks that maybe it understands that he’s a big boy now, and that he can handle different games. He feels hot all over and he can’t seem to stifle the little noises he makes in the back of his throat when Peter finally slips the tentacle into his swimsuit and rubs it against his bare pussy. It all feels so slick down there that he’s not sure where it’s petting him until it thrusts in.

He moans at the slow, intense intrusion and some thread that was coiling tighter and tighter seems to snap as he convulses. Peter trills approvingly and pushes both tentacles deeper inside him. Jon shakes with it and wonders wildly if they could meet in the middle, if Peter could impale him all the way through like a little Jon kebab. He’s not sure he wouldn’t enjoy it. It certainly feels some sort of good when the suckers catch on his insides. The suction isn’t as intense inside of him as it is outside, and his little nipples feel sore and bruised and hot, but he finds himself leaning into the sensation, his whole body trembling. He feels tingly all over and kind of shivery, but Peter seems to be having fun, so he settles in for the long haul. 

He’ll do anything to make his monster happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: **Hiding/Watching** / ~~Power Swap~~
> 
> Jon enjoys some "alone" time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon's anatomy: pussy, chest, clit

He’s timid around his monster now. He tries not to be, but he always ends up crouched behind a rock, watching carefully. He just can’t stop reliving the last time he got close enough for Peter to touch. It’s been giving him weird dreams. He’s not sure what to do about them, because he likes the dreams, and he liked what they did together, but that’s kind of the problem. He’s not sure what he’d do if Peter didn’t want him again. He’s not sure if he could survive being alone like that, driving Peter away like that.

He spends Saturday morning swimming laps in the tiny inlet near his and Peter’s special cave. It’s not nearly as comfortable as Peter’s lair, but it’s nice enough. When he gets tired enough that he’s trembling all over, he makes himself go ashore and lay down and drink water. He’s brought his picnic basket with him and he nibbles at some fruit as he stares up at the sky tiredly. 

He’s not sure when he dozed off, but he wakes suddenly, hot all over, and not from the late august sun. He dreamed about Peter again. Jon moans in distressed arousal. He wants Peter to touch him again. He’s been so _wet_ there, between his legs, and his chest is still bruised, somehow, even days later. At least Peter only left sucker marks on his legs and torso, so he can still wear short sleeves. He rubs the one on his hip bone. It aches a bit; it is a bruise, but it feels good, too. He likes having the reminder of his monster. He likes the dull, deep pain of it.

He turns his head and moans into his own shoulder. He’s wearing the rare two-piece today, so it’s easy to slip his hand down and tentatively rub at his pussy lips. He’s so wet there. Jon bites his arm so he doesn’t moan too loud. The cave is pretty secret, it’s really a trek to get down there, but he’s still worried about someone overhearing him if he’s too loud. 

He’s careful as he presses his fingers inside. The only other thing that’s been in there were Peter’s tentacles and they left him feeling bruised and worn out. He kind of likes the feeling, but it makes his thighs tremble badly enough remembering its intensity the day after that he has to stretch them out. Jon’s almost embarrassed by how he’s starfished here on the beach, hands down his pants, but he can’t bring himself to stop. 

He fingers himself for a while, ramping himself up to a peak, but unable to push himself over. He squirms and writhes in annoyance as he tries to get deeper, shove more fingers in, anything to get him off. He jolts when he hears the splash of water and he hurriedly turns towards the shore. Peter is there, in the shallows. Its big, luminous eyes glitter, almost malevolent in the late afternoon light. Jon moans out loud. Peter doesn’t come any closer, but he watches as Jon squirms out of his swim bottoms and fucks three fingers into his hole. He wants to go to Peter, so badly, but he’s possessed with the need to come, first. He wants to _show_ it how good he can be. He pants, open mouthed, as he finally gets the idea and grinds his clit up against his wrist. His lids flutter as he finally comes, but he keeps his eyes locked on Peter’s. 

He whimpers when it beckons him forward, but he crawls towards it on trembling limbs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> You can catch me on [ nsfw twitter ](https://twitter.com/maatition) and you can find more content for JonPeter Week on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/jonpeterweek21) and [ tumblr ](https://jonpeterweek2021.tumblr.com/)!


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